Chapter 331
She hadn’t eaten in two days. She sat on the floor, staring at the wall, replaying the scene in the hotel room. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked at Yvonne.
This isn’t your concern anymore.
The words echoed in her skull, twisting the knife.
Downstairs, Anson sat in the library, drinking brandy and smiling. He had won. Dallas had destroyed himself.
But Eliza was stubborn. She hadn’t signed.
Knock, knock.
“Eliza,” Anson called through the door. “You need to eat.”
“Go away.” Her voice was a croak. The thought of accepting comfort from this man — this monster — made her stomach churn. But she was too weak to fight, too drained to scream. So she stayed silent, letting his presence outside the door become another layer of her personal hell.
At Lenox Hill ICU, the monitors kept their steady rhythm.
Beep… beep… beep…
Dallas opened his eyes. The lights were blinding. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his abdomen pinned him down.
Dr. Vance was standing over him.
“You lost a pint of blood,” Vance said sternly. “Internal sutures tore. You are lucky to be alive.”
“Phone,” Dallas rasped.
“No,” Vance said. “Rest.”
Dallas reached out and grabbed Vance’s scrub top. His grip was weak, but his eyes were terrifying.
“Give. Me. The. Phone.”
Vance sighed and handed it over.
Dallas dialed Harrison.
“Did she sign?”
“No, sir,” Harrison said. “She tore them up. She said she’s going to drag it out.”
Dallas closed his eyes. “She’s stubborn. She thinks holding on is punishing me. She doesn’t realize it keeps her in the line of fire.”
“What do we do?”
“Nuclear option,” Dallas said. His voice was devoid of emotion. “Enact the contingency. Send her the official notice. Tell her that if she doesn’t sign by midnight, the Solomon Gallery’s operating trust — which S&D manages — will be dissolved. All funding will cease. Her mother’s paintings will be recalled from their international loans and locked away. And I will personally terminate Azalea’s funding agreement.”
“Sir —” Harrison sounded ill. “That’s monstrous.”
“Do it,” Dallas ordered. “And send Anson a copy. Make sure he knows I’m threatening her assets. He’ll push her to sign to protect her.”
Two hours later, at Solomon Manor.
Harrison stood in the foyer, sweating. Anson let him in.
“Mr. Koch sends his regards,” Harrison said, handing Anson the file.
Anson read it. His eyebrows rose. “He’s threatening to liquidate the gallery’s operating funds? And cut off the child?”
“Yes,” Harrison said. “He wants a clean break. Now.”
Anson walked upstairs and unlocked Eliza’s door with a master key.
“Eliza,” Anson said gently. “You need to see this.”
Eliza looked at the papers. She read the threats.
Dissolve the trust. Her mother’s legacy. Cut off Azalea. The innocent child.
Something inside her finally snapped — the last thread of hope, the tiny voice that had whispered maybe he still loves me, died. He wasn’t just falling out of love. He was erasing her. He was destroying everything she cared about to be rid of her.
“He’s a devil,” Eliza whispered.